I woke up today without a hangover for the first time in years. I don’t know what to think. I’m still shaking though. I have no idea how long it takes for that to go away, but I’m not giving it much of a chance to do so, seeing as how I’m getting drunk tonight at Sarah Anne’s birthday party.
So, my race was stupendous. Some people who swore up and down that they were coming didn’t show. That’s something that used to really bother me when I was younger; you know, why don’t people just say that they might come? Why do they make such a big deal out of saying that they’re going to do something and then they don’t do it and make themselves look like flaky assholes, when they could’ve just said “maybe” in the first place? OK, well apparently it still bothers me if I’m calling people assholes. [I’m writing this much later just to call myself on my own bullshit. I told someone that I was going to the Bicycle Film Festival and then never went. Although, I regret my flakiness, I don’t regret not going since I heard that it was just movies about guys in New York. On top of that, Aurisha supposedly tried to turn in a movie about the Whirly Girls and they wouldn’t accept it which to me is like a slap in the face of the local biking community, but who knows? I haven’t seen the movie. Maybe it’s poorly done or boring. I have no idea. not trying to accuse the Whirly Girls of anything of course.]
Anyway, there were some nice surprises though.
Paul from Choppercabras came. (Did I spell that right?) I look up to him. Not only did he start his own business, but on top of that, it revolves around bicycles.I can’t wait to see his shop.
Ma Belle made a bike at the Bicycle Kitchen (which no longer has a kitchen) just to come to my race, and she even named the bike after me. I love you, Ma Belle; not like you even read my blog but whatever.
Lots of us got extremely shit faced on Thunderbird with cherry Kool Aid as you may’ve expected. I smelt like that shit all day the next day, and amazingly I didn’t throw up, although others did. I’m sure. I don’t quite remember. Amy passed out, and I had to drive us home. (We’re roommates, so it wasn’t too big of a deal)
Anyway, thanks to Rebecca, Armando, Amy, Jenny, Brian, and Clare for helping. and thanks to everyone who came, especially to those who came with actual single speed cruisers,. . . ahem.
Everybody give yourselves pats on the back seeing as how we managed to finish off sixty bucks in Thunderbird.
You know, this whole writing sober thing is interesting. I don’t get as worked up about stuff when I’m sober. Yes, it’s true that my life is hell when I’m hungover, but I think that that makes for good writing.
wow, I’m truly amazed. I don’t really have anything interesting to say. Wow, so this is probably the mind frame of most people in their day-to-day lives; . . . . interesting, hmmm, so this is how it feels, . . . interesting, . . . just kidding, it’s not interesting at all. I’m going to pause and start this again when I can think of something.
later,
OK, so it’s Monday and yes, I’m hungover today. Sarah Anne’s birthday party went fantastically. It was a prom theme, and then at 12 everybody jumped in the pool. I got so drunk, I did some blacked out flirting in my speedo underwears in the jacuzzi and had to be reminded of it the next day. But, apparently it almost worked, . . .
The next day by Jenny’s mom’s pool, I called Michelle, and she was telling me how much it bothered her that I drank. She was like, “You get drunk everyday. I mean you’re probably drunk right now, aren’t you?”
I said no even though I was already on my fourth beer at 9 in the morning.
Then I hung up on her.
I haven’t talked to her since. It’s funny too because I told her all about my drinking right off the bat when I met her.
[update: we are no longer officially boyfriend and girlfriend; maybe it’s shitty for me to be all public about it. I hope she doesn’t get mad at me.
And also I just realized that I admitted to flirting with someone else while we were still officially together. Let this be a warning to all of you ladies out there: I am a fucking dirtbag.]
Then me, Fucking John, Shannon, and Amanda went and got lunch in Tarzana. fucking cool name for a town if you ask me
Me and Fucking John got 2 pitchers of margaritas and then when the bill came, we realized they were each 25 dollars each!!!!!! Jesus fucking Christ!!!!!! and we couldn’t finish it all so I took the second one with us underneath my suit jacket.
So, it seems like maybe this blog entry lacks substance, so I’m going to add some parts of other entries that I was working on. First, here’s some redundant shit that I’m pretty sure I’ve already said in other entries, most notably the last one that I put up:
So, I was sitting on my porch last night getting really drunk like usual and I thought that I’ld write a blog entry on masochism because I love it so much.
Now, I’m not sure about all the aspects of my masochism. It’s not like I like getting beaten up; I just like tragedy I guess you’ld say. and I like intense sensations
You know what it makes me think of? It brings to mind how I like malt liquor. I grew up drinking it just because it was cheap and it gave me a good buzz and now I love it and prefer it. I’ld still prefer it over almost all fancy beer even if it was the same price, but really when it comes down to it, I’ll drink anything. as long as it doesn’t have onions in it.
Or how about riding a bicycle? That’s one of the biggest loves of my life, but I used to do it just because I didn’t have a car.
So, maybe I like pain just because I’ve been dealing with it all my life.
Also, maybe I have self esteem issues or it might be a way of punishing myself for doing wrong.
But, anyway, sometimes I feel like I really want to test the limits of how much emotional pain I can take. Like, I want really really terrible things to happen to the people that I love the most in life just to see how bad it would hurt me. Isn’t that selfish? Well, I don’t know, am I responsible if something actually bad happens to them just because I wished it?
But, you know what? Now that I think about it, I totally cheat because I get drunk and you can’t really truly feel emotional pain in that state. At least I can’t.
And it’s not only my own pain that I revel in. I also like other people’s misfortune too. I’ve found that the California section of the LA Times is an excellent source of experiencing other people’s tragedy.
It just makes me want to laugh.
You know I really hate humans. Not personally necessarily. Just the state of being human I think is really sucky and I want them to go through bad times because they deserve it. Like recently, on the news, I saw this man totally flipped out. He found the bodies of three little kids dead in the trunk of his car, and one or more of the boys was his own. He was completely hysterical. I can’t imagine how fucked in the head he is now. He’ll never return to normal.
oh, this was my old “About me” section on MySpace.
It was irritating me and I don’t feel like it has been that accurate since my job has been making me unhappy lately. So, I just wanted to preserve it here in a blog entry:
Sincerity is my god and self exploration my prayer. In the year 2002, I hit the lowest point of my life. Pretty much the whole entire year was pure shit. It was terrible. I’m surprised I lived through it. 2001 and 2000 were almost as bad. But it’s really all worth it because the year 2004 was so far, the best year of my life. It was the happiest and most productive. I’ve discovered that the point of life is to be happy. It sounds really obvious, and most everybody would agree with that, but deep down inside, they don’t live by that philosophy.
And then here’s some of my old friendster profile which I’m also erasing:
Right now is the happiest time of my life and it creeps me out. I feel like a brainwashed cult member or born again christian but there’s no cult and I don’t believe in god or anything. I just feel all blissed out all the time for no reason. Maybe I’m jinxing myself by saying this and everything’s gonna all go to shit.
But wait, now that I think about it, every once in a while, I have days where the whole world just seems like one big nightmare. All of the terrible shit that goes on really fills me with grief. And then for some reason, the more disturbing it is to me, the more I focus on it. I think I might be an emotional masochist. but doesn’t matter, it feels good.
OK, you have now finished this blog entry. Please go fuck yourselves.
Really, please do. I mean it.
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lame blog entry
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